


Guys Gone Wild

by Nicrenkel



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Guys Gone Wild, M/M, Mardi Gras, New Orleans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 19:52:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13508610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nicrenkel/pseuds/Nicrenkel
Summary: Based on a conversation with Julia— I hope you like it!





	Guys Gone Wild

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stars_fall_on](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stars_fall_on/gifts).



> I’ll throw a few pictures in here and there, to help those unfamiliar with Mardi Gras visualize the madness. None of these photos are mine… except for the one with Mickey and Ian. That one is mine. ;)

Mickey had never seen anything like Mardi Gras. When his happy-go-lucky boyfriend had suggested it for their yearly travel destination, he downplayed it as a place to sit back and unwind, with low-key celebrations where people minded their own business, and no one asked him to participate in anything weird. It didn’t take more than a ten-minute deep throating (and a serious case of puppy eyes) before Mickey had caved.

Instead, he now bore witness to the most fucked up, psychedelic gay parade he couldn’t have imagined in his worst nightmares.

“It’s not a gay parade, Mick.”

“Then how the fuck do you explain THAT?”

“They’re just being festive, it’s a celebration!” He slung his arms around his lover’s shoulders. “Mardi Gras is an old tradition; everyone gets together for one last round of partying before giving something up for Lent.”

“Thought you Gallagher’s weren’t Catholic?” 

Ian grinned, “Don’t think you have to be… you just have to like fun. You like fun, don’t you?”

He laughed at the withering glare he received in response and hugged the brunet close. “Alright, how about this: We spend some time enjoying the parade, and then we’ll branch off somewhere less crowded for dinner? We’ll eat barbecue, drink whiskey… when we get back to the hotel, I’ll do that thing you like…”

And so Mickey found himself enduring the five longest, strangest hours of his life. Gigantic, neon colored floats paraded by, with people in costumes throwing out necklaces like candy. Everyone wanted those fucking necklaces, though he couldn’t tell you why for the life of him. Fuckin’ cheap plastic bullshit, anyway.

Sweat dripped down Mickey’s back and beaded on his forehead. Last he checked, it was February 13th… and they were in America, not Hell. But every time he turned to complain, he caught Ian’s beaming face. The excitement rolling from the redhead in waves was palpable, and Mickey was putty in his hands. 

Instead, he checked his watch frequently, huffing when the time reached 6pm. Ian leaned into the crook of his neck, “You wanna go get dinner?”

“Fuck yes. Let’s beat it.”

***

Holding hands as they walked through the side streets of the French Quarter, Mickey’s claustrophobia took a backseat to his culture shock. “I mean, yeah, I get that everyone’s dying to flash their tits that no one fucking asked to see, fuck you very much… but what’s with all the god damn clowns?”

Ian kissed his boyfriend’s temple. “The court jesters? Not sure.” He squinted at his cellphone. “Google says something about mischief and practical jokes… wow, I didn’t know they’d been doing all this since 1699! Shit…” 

Mickey nodded, distracted by the abundance of beads. “Why are there only three colors?”

“Hmm? Oh, it’s part of their tradition. Purple is for justice, green is for faith, and gold is for power. I’ll bet the gold one would look good on you.” Mickey shook his head. “Not happening.” 

In an attempt to ignore the still-packed crowds around them, he tried to focus on the music that followed them down every turn. The jazz was upbeat but not in your face, like it was here to mind its own business and have a good time. He could appreciate that. Kinda sounded like that circus Jamie snuck him and his brothers into when they were real little.

It was the pull of a heavily sauced rib joint that drew Mickey’s attention next. It was calling to him like it knew him on a first name basis. The streets were bustling, yet all Mickey needed to calm himself was to close his eyes and inhale the lingering scent deeply. He’d thought that Chicago barbecue had it all. He’d been wrong.

“Fucking starving, Ian. Can we get—“ He turned to find himself Ian-less; his tall redhead was nowhere to be found. 

“Uh…” He whipped his head around, not spotting him anywhere. “Shit… Gallagher?” How someone as bubbly and striking as Ian could get lost in any crowd was beyond him.

After standing stock-still for a few moments, he decided that his search had proved fruitless because he was too focused on the grumbling from his gut. He turned back around towards the source of the mouthwatering scent. What better way to find his boyfriend than to think clearly on a stomach full of ribs?, he reasoned to himself. Ian would know where to find him. He always knew.

He shrugged and turned towards the restaurant. He could smell dueling aromas of smoky and sweet, and could almost taste them on his tongue. Just as he approached the bar and grill, he heard a loud whistle and catcalls in his direction.

“Hey sexy! You got a second?” The hair on the back of his neck prickled, and he spun around to face his callers with his fists clenched at his side. “The fuck did you say to me?”

“We could use a hot guy with a hot ass like yours. Think you could help us out?” Mickey walked up to them, a man holding a camera and a man holding a collection of beaded necklaces, and prepared to rip them a new one. “You wanna fuckin’ die? Cause I guarantee you, whoever the fuck you are—“

“I’m Kyle, this is Dave, and we’re with Guys Gone Wild. We need young, sexy men like you to earn some beads.” 

Mickey eyebrows crept up his forehead as he swallowed uncomfortably, and spat, “Ain’t interested.” He lit up a cigarette and blew the smoke in their direction. “See that shit at the Dollar Tree all the time.”

“You’d be surprised how many men at Mardi Gras are willing to participate. Few as good looking as you, though. Those piercing blue eyes… those chiseled features…you willing to show us the goods to win yourself a prize?” He waved the large bundle of necklaces around in a circular motion, not yet noticing the murderous look in the brunet’s eyes.

“Flash us your chest for one necklace, that ass for two, and show us what you’re packing for three!”

Mickey’s eyes flashed wide and his nostrils flared, “You wanna get throat chopped? Keep talkin’!” He stormed upon them, both men huddling back in fear. 

Mickey slowed his breathing and counted to ten in his head. He knew this was a bad idea. The last thing Ian needed was to have to spend their vacation money bailing his boyfriend out of jail far from home in the middle of a god damn clown parade. But these douchebags were working his last nerve. 

He raised his hands up to crack his knuckles, his biceps flexing and his face falling back into his signature scowl. The men in front of him finally cluing into the danger they’d placed themselves in.

“Uh- uh… um…” Kyle the Fucking Einstein sputtered. He slowly inched backwards, while Dave gripped his camera a little closer. It reminded Mickey of a deer caught in the headlights, not sure which way to run. 

He paused and took in the moment. It was like he was a teen again, back in his old stomping grounds, roughing people up with his older brothers. The look of terror in the eyes of his targets seen from far away, any time the Milkovich brothers were in range. Especially him, the feared leader of the clan. 

Didn’t matter if they ended up delivering a beat down, collecting dues, issuing threats, or just dealing; half of the rush was in the approach. Watching the hesitance and fear seep in, knowing they’d end up cowering in his presence without him even breaking a sweat. The feel of respect; dominance. Control over his surroundings.

Something good always came of it when Mickey was in alpha mode. Hell, hunting down a scrawny redhead with Jamie and Tony was how things fell together with the love of his life.

As the fond memories started to drift back to Mickey, he looked again at the crouched host and his cameraman, and it occurred to him that violence wouldn’t be necessary. He already had them right where he wanted them.

Ian’s words from earlier drifted back to him, _“…You just have to like fun. You like fun, don’t you?”_

It just wouldn’t be the sort of fun these frat boys were expecting.

Taking a slow inhale, he squinted his eyes and threw out the bait. “Tryna get me to show you the goods, huh? Why the fuck should I?” 

Kyle stepped back into his role as host eagerly, “Because hot guys like you don’t pass us by often. You’re so hot, bro… like, out-of-most-guys’-league, hot. Unattainable.”

Mickey shook the word “bullshit” out of his thoughts. “Yeah, well, I am unattainable. Got a fuckin’ boyfriend. Lucky for you he ain’t here right now, he’d kick your ass for talkin’ to me like that.” He stifled a small smile; Ian was possessive in a way that brought Mickey to fully engorged in minutes, if he dwelled on the matter. “He’s a fucking beast, man. He’d knock you out with one punch.”

“I wouldn’t blame him”, Kyle continued, “He must be handsome as hell to have landed a buff, badass boyfriend like you… lucky guy.” 

“Sexiest motherfucker you’ve ever seen.” Mickey looked around for his lost ginger, suddenly needing to touch him, to feel the heat under smooth, pale, freckled skin. His fingertips itched with the need to trail down his hard chest and linger on his sculpted V muscles…

Mickey pressed his lips into a tight line, resenting the way this conversation was veering off course. These assholes weren’t his friends. They were here to use him, plain and simple. 

“So what do you say, give us a little something, earn yourself some beads?” The men tried their best not to look upwards, at the countless balconies cram-packed full of people looking to throw free necklaces at passersby for nothing more than a glance.

The murderous look of contempt returned, and the man extended his arm towards them, cigarette outstretched towards their faces. “Already fuckin’ told you, it ain’t happening.” 

He huffed indignantly, aiming for a new angle. “Ain’t you the perverts that got shut down for filming underage girls?”

Dave tapped the side of the camera, where the logo is displayed. “ _Guys_ Gone Wild.”

Mickey crossed his arms and frowned. “Alright, Stephen Spielberg, explain the difference.”

The men shifted uncomfortably as the man holding the camera spoke. “That’s Girls Gone Wild. And we were never a part of that. The guy that ran that show went to jail. We’ve only been with this company for less than a year.” 

Kyle cleared his throat and straightened his posture, an obvious attempt to muster up the confidence needed for his job as a monkey in a frat boy suit. “Everything is above ground and legal, I assure you.”

“Besides,” Dave added, “He went to jail for more than just the jail baiting… There was falsely imprisoning three women, tax evasion…other shit.”

Kyle stared at his coworker with cold, dead eyes. “Dude… Anyway, bro, listen, all we need is—“

Mickey ignored the host and continued, “Didn’t they file for bankruptcy? Chapter 11 and shit?” He peered at them through squinted eyes, hoping to hit home when he added, “You guys gonna get shut down next?”

Dave’s face perked up. “Actually, Guys Gone Wild’s audience has found a lot of growth these past few years… they found that women are actually rivalling gay men in who’s the bigger marketing group for these videos.

“So, what you’re telling me is… you want me to take off my clothes for chicks?” He blew another fume of smoke in their direction. “Didn’t think that one through, did you?”

Kyle deliberated nervously. “But so many viewers are looking for someone like you!” Mickey scrunched his face in disbelief. “No, really! It’s so rare to find a hot guy so brash, so masculine… not to be an asshole, but we pretty much get the same kind of guy on here over and over, and viewers are bored with it. Guys who are desperate for attention, easy, eager to please…”

“Because of you. That’s your job, right? To get these dudes to strip for you? And then you’re gonna mock them for it?” He was really getting them to squirm now, and pressed harder. “Guess you really are an asshole. Telling guys you’re dying to see them naked, then you shit-talk them like _they’re_ the whores. You’re the one getting paid for it.”

Kyle looked mortified, and Mickey wanted to give himself a pat on the back for getting the guy to shut up for five seconds. 

Dave surprised him by lowering the camera to where the lens was no longer focused on Mickey. “To be fair, viewers really do respond to guys like you. A lot, dude. Like… they want to feel like they had to work at it to get to see you naked. Like they had to wait, and wonder if you’d really do it. They felt like they’d earned it.”

Now it was Mickey’s turn to be stunned into silence. In a world full of gay dudes, _he_ was considered the catch?

To be fair, Ian did tell him shit like that all the time… but he figured that his redheaded dork of a lover was just biased in his favor.

Kyle inserted himself into the conversation with force, as if to redeem himself. “And our show does more than just get guys naked and bail, okay? They do all sorts of porn-type scenes, without the actual sex happening. Guys playing touch football, guys in college dorms, doing all types of shit. They flirt with each other and strip, and… no one’s getting used, all right? Everyone signs the release form by choice. No one’s forced.”

That caught Mickey’s attention. “Release form, huh?” He grinned and flicked the ashes off of his cigarette. “So even if you got someone naked, you still can’t use that shit unless they sign off on it? Okay… so what’re you doing here, then?”

Kyle’s hand crept its way up his face as realization sunk in. “This isn’t going to happen, is it? Fuck. What am I doing wrong? I’m not going to make shit for a paycheck this week.”

Dave explained, “We used to get paid a flat $150 a day, but that was back before a big chunk of our audience jumped ship for Pornhub and YouPorn, and other sites like that. People got tired of the tease; they wanted to see some pay off. So now, we get paid on commission. If we don’t get the goods, we don’t get paid.”

“And you know what’s really not fair?” Kyle whined, completely abandoning all attempts at playing the role of flirty host, “Look around. Thousands and THOUSANDS of women, flashing their chests all day and all night, WILLINGLY, and we can barely snag a handful of guys. It’s a joke. It’s like the universe is just telling me I fucking suck at my job.” He sighed a deep and heavy sigh of self-pity. “If the Girls Gone Wild side of things were still up and running, we’d be making money hand over fist, without even trying.”

He glanced to the side, eyeing a voluptuous woman stroll by topless, carrying her shirt in her hand. Her bared upper torso partially obscured by at least a dozen beaded necklaces. “Of course, my girlfriend would chop my dick off if I worked with topless girls every day.” He tilted back his thumb in Dave’s direction, “And his wife would really…”

Both men turned their heads towards one another simultaneously. They shared a knowing look, and then faced Mickey guiltily. 

He scrunched up his nose. “What, you one of those closet cases?” He tossed his cigarette to the ground and stubbed it out with his shoe. “Gotta say, you’re doing a shitty job of it, standing around asking dudes to pull their dicks out in public…”

When neither of them spoke, he glanced between the two. “Wait… you’re not even gay?”

They both shook their heads. “BOTH a you are straight? Jesus… some fuckin’ job you’ve got. Pretending to flirt with dudes all day, gotta have guys flash you just to get the bills paid… must fuckin’ suck for you.”

Dave shrugged a shoulder. “I’ve got two girls at home; one’s 12 and one’s almost 15. Last thing I’d want to do is to have to hit on girls not much older than they are. Honestly? I’d prefer this.”

Mickey looked around, taking in the scene of what was now, without a doubt, the weirdest day of his life.

“Alright, alright, fine. I got it.” He took a deep breath. “We doin’ this or what?”

They looked up hopefully. “Yeah, I’ll lift my shirt, but that’s fuckin’ it. Can we get this over with, now? I got a date with some barbecued ribs. Fuckin’ starving.”

Dave propped the camera over his shoulder and resumed recording. Mickey exhaled a slow sigh, accepting his bitch move as ‘doing the right thing’. What’d it really matter, anyway? Half the city was topless at this point. 

Just as his fingertips grazed the hem of his shirt, he was jostled to the side by a tall, broad shouldered man, who stepped between Mickey and the camera. His face was darkened with rage, his brows set in a menacing furrow. His breathing was shallow, bared teeth offering an intimidating promise. Both of the crewmen pulled back, huddling towards each other with uncertainty. 

Ian stared them down, daring either of them to move, to speak. His flushed cheeks nearly matched the shade of his fiery red hair, and his bulging biceps drawing attention to his clenched fists.

Just then, he undid his button and unzipped his jeans, letting his pants and boxers drop to the ground.

“Give me the fucking beads. NOW.” His hand outstretched menacingly in front of them, but the men couldn’t pick their eyes up from where they had fallen. The length of it alone was stunning, the girth noticeable even in its flaccid state.

“Ian!” Mickey’s horrified expression overshadowed his sharp tone, looking quickly between the camera and his boyfriends bared cock.

“I said hand me the beads. All of them.” He took a step forward, his torso tilting towards them threateningly.

Kyle lifted the bundle upwards, carefully gifting it towards the enraged ginger, whose chest was still heaving with aggression. Ian snatched them away, slinging them quickly around his neck, and quickly lifted and fastened his pants. 

“And if you ever- EVER hit on my boyfriend again—“ 

“Ian.” He turned to find Mickey’s eyes dark and focused on his, Mickey’s tongue poking at the corner of his mouth. “…Fuck, Ian…” he sighed breathily. 

Ian darted forward and kissed his man hard on the mouth, arms wrapping around him possessively. His fingers moved up through dark locks to cradle Mickey’s head, holding him close. 

They leaned into one another and kissed passionately, tongues moving against each other, hands groping freely. 

They continued for a long moment, locked together in front of the baffled and silenced crewmen. 

Ian pulled away first, “You wanna get some barbecue, baby? Smells so good.” 

“Oh god, I’m so fucking hungry… gonna get some ribs with the maple-whiskey flavoring added in.”

“Can’t wait, Mick.” He kissed at the brunet’s neck as they walked towards the restaurant, side by side, arms slung around each other’s hips. 

Kyle shouted, “Wait, you forgot to sign these release forms! We can’t put this scene on video unless… “

“They’re already gone, man. We’ll have to scrap it and move onto the next one.”

“Damnit! That was a good take, too. Did you see that guy? Hung like a horse.” His face fell and his eyes lowered to the ground. “It’s not fair! How was he THAT BIG, when he wasn't even hard? It looked like an elephant trunk.”

Dave nodded. “Yeah, I did see it. Can’t unsee it. Talk about emasculating…”

Kyle whined, “Way to make a guy feel even smaller than he already did!” 

Dave laughed, pausing at the passing woman weighed down with a large bundle of necklaces around her collarbone.

“Excuse me, ma’am? Can we have those beads?” 

“Sure!” she shrugged and handed them over congenially. 

“Onto the next one?” Dave asked.

Kyle sighed. “Yep. Onto the next one.”

**Author's Note:**

> 


End file.
